Learning To Live
by Christina Crowriddle
Summary: Everything has a beginning. Everything happens for a reason. Events in our life are connected by a red string we call Fate. .o Based on Cyndi's Lightverse and used with permission. Contains many a OCs. Prequel to Affections Unbound.


**The show begins**

Pain.

That is the first thing I remember. Pain. Sucky, isn't it? What can I say? When you are like me, that is the most likely first memory you have.

That day, the Autobot assembly line glitched a bit. A bit for some. For me, that glitch marked me for the whole function. A bladed arm on the track for programming slashed my forehelm diagonally, sewering all of the sense wires. Boy, did it hurt. What a life, I was barely conscious and I already experienced pain. Though they do say that is the first sensation in the universe.

How fitting.

Sensor wires connecting to processors is what keeps us alive and kicking. Without them, we are blind, deaf, numb, immobile. And mine were really fucked up. Pain was overwhelming, and it only got worse when I was ripped from my place on the track and strapped down to a medical berth. I couldn't see, couldn't hear, I couldn't even scream. Thankfully, or not, I was still able to feel what they were doing to me a bit. And it _hurt._ Fingers dug into the gash and rewired my helm. But they felt aloof, careless, even. As if the didn't care if I got fixed or not. That only served to confuse me more. Weren't medics supposed to help bots?

It is probably a good thing the malfunction happened _after_ I recieved basic knowledge and all that scrap.

The surgery lasted far too long for my liking. I will likely have a medic phobia from now on. Sometime during the procedure, I fell into a stasis-lock. I was so glad there was no more pain.

When I woke up, however, something didn't feel right. Actually, _everything_ didn't feel right. Pushing myself up, I looked around, but noise from the line made it difficult. What the- Why is my vision white?

My helm was pounding and I felt nauseaus. Great, barely a day of function, and I was already sick of my life. Someone hauled me up by my arms. Their touch felt...loud … Why? Isn't it supposed to be...harsh? I could feel it, feel the servo on my arm, but for some reason I couldn't get rid of the reflex to associate the touch with sound. That wasn't supposed to happen! What is _wrong_ with me?! What have they done?

I felt myself stumble, and I was pushed, angry words of the medibot to get lost splitting around my aching helm. Fighting down the urge to fall then and there, I willed my legs to move, running away from that horrible place. Behind me, I could hear brown laughter of the medibots. _Brown?!_

My vision was spinning away by the time I reached the bridge. Crawling under it, I panted, and finally succumbed to darkness.

.o

My systems slowly booted up ,and I groaned as I came to my senses. I felt lightheaded and I still had a faint processor ache, but I was certain I won't be falling unconscious any time soon. At least I hoped so.

My joints were stiff, so I flexed and stretched my arms above my helm, sighing in satisfaction as I heard struts popping back in place. Feeling something trickle down my face, I reached up, my black fingers coming back sticky with fluid. Energon, I decided. It was glowing purple, and I rubbed the liquid between my fingertips, strings connecting them when I pulled them apart. I stuck my digits in my mouth. It tickled. I could feel the taste, but it was accompanied with lovely shades of purples and blues dancing behind my optics. I was still aware of my surroundings, still could see the dump I was in, but in my mind I saw the colors. Pulling them out, I experimentaly pinched my cheek. I felt the sensation, but my mind imagined fast, high pitched sounds.

Noticing the oil puddle near me, I crawled towards it, sitting back on my calves once there. I leaned in and examined my reflection.

I smiled lightly upon seeing myself. I liked how I looked on the first impressions, though I had no references or memories of other fembots to compare myself with. My face was dark, almost completely black, and my helm was bright purple with green stripes and round audios. I liked those colors. Purple and green, that is. Black was nice, and my face looked childish. Focusing on my features, I slowly examined myself. Thin, small mouth with barely-there lips. Big, but not too huge, optics. My left optic was pretty azure in color, but my right optic worried me a little. It felt funny and it was red around the edges.

I watched as the redness spread around like a disease, and very soon I was left with a completely red right optic. A quick scan proved my worries valid- the fibers in it were ruptured. Great. I had no idea what that meant, but I hoped it wouldn't affect my vision.

I cupped some oil in my palms and rubbed them together, attempting to clean them. I was left with oily, slippery hands, but at least they were not covered in grime anymore. I touched my head wound again, and hissed in pain. Ouch.

There was a piece of destronium on the ground not too far from where I was sitting, I reached out and grasped it. Using the puddle as a mirror, I magnetized it across my wound. It was silver and crude, with jagged edges, but at least it stopped the bleeding. Now that it was successfully covered, I could focus on getting out of this dump.

Still lightheaded, I used the bridge for support and slowly pushed myself up. I leaned onto the filthy surface, swaying as my environment spun. My tank did a flip and I gagged, but didn't vomit as there was nothing to purge. Hot agony ripped through my head and I cradled it in my left hand, my right one laid flat against the bridge.

Waiting for the nausea to pass somewhat, I breathed in and out deeply trough my mouth. My surroundings stopped spinning and I cautiously shuffled into the daylight, wincing as the light of the sun stung my optics. It was midday, if the position of the red sun was anything to go by. Streets would probably be empty now. Nobot wanted to get their plating scorched in the heat.

Getting out into the street proved it. There were a few bots here and there, but besides them, it was deserted. Though, a sound of commotion reached my audios, and I followed the noise. I ended up on the market.

It was, unlike the street I first went to, bristling with activity. I focused on my walking so I wouldn't be overwhelmed by the intensity of it all. Towers gleamed in the sunlight, so pure and clean, so different from that dump I woke up in. bots of all shapes and sizes rushed past me and merchants yelled their offerings.

Walking past multiple stalls, I spotted an energon stall, and my tanks churned painfully at the sight of food. I approached it as the seller turned to the bot buying a delicious-looking flux cake. A few oil truffles rolled from the overstuffed stall onto the ground without the owner noticing. I waited until they got behind the stall to exchange the credits before grabbing the fallen food and walking away. Running, I reasoned, would only result in attracting unwanted attention. Holding the fat truffles close, I counted them. There were seven.

Holding one truffle in my left servo, I took a cautious bite, the rest of the stolen treats cradled securely in my arms. It was sweet, and somewhat bright, and I sighed in content as I chewed it, savoring every bite. Subspacing the rest of the truffles, I walked aimlessly around the market. I wasn't hungry anymore and my headache has dulled into a mild throb.

I was looking at a stall full of paints and brushes when a yell caught my attention. "Come on, come all! Behold! Beautiful ornaments for your hab suite! Made of gold, molded of crystal! Come!"

I approached, but stayed at a reasonable distance. It was quite crowded there. There were two stalls, the one of the shouting mech looked rather nice, better than most of the others. The other one, however, was a simple colorful cloth spread on the ground, with an old-looking mech sitting on a portable chair behind it. On the cloth, there were multiple ornaments spread neatly. I watched as a pair of bots holding hands approached the old bot, but the arrogant merchant stopped them: "Don't you know it's bad luck to take from the ground?" And just like that, he dragged the confused pair away to his own merchandise. I watched the display, and frowned. Despite being only a day old, I knew that wasn't right. Coming in front of the old bot's stall, I knelt down, examining his ornaments. They were really beautiful, if not better than the rich, arrogant mech's. "That is not right", I said, looking him in the optic. I mentally winced at the sound of my voice-it still had that raw, metallic sound to it, not developed enough.

The old bot just smiled sadly. "What is one to do"-he said-"when knowing his competition is better than him?"

I looked down-this mech clearly had wisdom. After a bit of silence I rose to my feet. "He makes sure he becomes even better." And with that, I started clapping and stomping my feet in rhythmic intervals, creating attracting music pleasing to the audio. The mech pulled out a weird item – an old guitar, I realized later- and started playing in tandem with my beating. It was absolutely _beautiful._ Joyful, inviting colors danced behind my optics, and I played with my hands and feet more confidently, skipping and stepping, spinning in tight circles. I felt a smile plaster itself on my face and my optics closed. I heard people coming in delighted crowds to see an old merchant and his dancing assistant. I stopped my clapping and walked a half-circle before the crowd, letting my metallic voice spill praises for the mech's merchandise.

My voice had an odd, pleasant sound to it, despite being undeveloped, and my little sing-song chant attracted even more bots. I spotted a pair from before lift up an item from the cloth and examine it with grins. "These are amazing!" I grinned broadly as I heard that last comment, and looked to the arrogant merchant, who was bristling with anger for losing his customers.

After the crowd cleared, there was almost nothing left on the cloth. The old mech rose to his feet and hugged me. Never being held before, I just stood there. He pulled away and put his hands on my shoulders. He was small, smaller than me by few inches. "Oh, my dear child! You must stay for the dinner tonight!"

"Oh no, thank you, but I couldn't. I don't want to be a burden." He just smiled. "Not at all, my child. Thanks to you, this was the most successful day since that arrogant mech came here! And my bondmate will be delighted to meet you."

"But…We just met! And look at my optics!" The mech put a hand to my cheek. "I've seen many things in my function, and believe me, I see no weirdness or ugliness here. If anything, your optics give you character. But, what's this? A helm wound? I can help you with that. I cannot heal a scar, but I can clean it and help you find a suitable cover-up for it."

It was my turn to smile at his kindness. Before I could say anything, he spoke again. "My name is Magna. What is yours?"

I frowned-what _is_ my name? Who _am_ I? "I…I don't know…" I whispered, embarrassed.

There it was again, that bright, kind smile. "No need to worry. You are a newbie, aren't you? Well then, welcome to this universe, young one. I hope you bring it a smile."

My spark warmed at his kind words, but then the moment was ruined by my complaining tank and a painful reminder of my helmache. "Let's go, then."-he said, and lead the way to his house.

.o

It was a nice, cozy home, small but efficient. I liked it, the furniture was clearly arranged with an efficient flow of energy in mind. The walls were light blue, and the lightning was kind of dim, but enough bright not to strain my optics. Magna led me through the door, my head pounding by now, and sat me down in the living room. He came back with an old fembot in tow-it must've been his bondmate, if matching scuff marks were anything to go by.

"Child, meet my dear bondmate, Lava. Lava, this is the fembot that helped me sell my work. Thanks to her, we'll be able to support ourselves for at least three weeks."

There was a smile on her white face, but her optics never lowered, but stayed straight forward. They were white. Her voice was smooth and warm, like a loving mother speaking to her child. "I thank you, little one. Please, can you stand up? I would like to touch your face."

I rose to my feet.

And with that, her small hand ghosted over my cheek, lips and forehead, outlining my optics, before finally flicking my nose. "It's nice to meet you."

Her optics never blinked, always stayed forward, and I finally realized-Lava was _blind._ I watched in wonder as she moved about like any sighted bot.

.o

The dinner was a pleasant experience. Lava made some of the best fried flux, despite her blindness. "This is amazing, ma'am."

Lava smiled. "There's no need to be so formal, my dear. In this house, you are a guest until you drink your first energon. You were here for at least three hours, so you are a part of the family now. Say, what is your name?"

I looked down. "I don't know."

"Oh. Then maybe we should find one. Is there any special feature you like about yourself or that sets you apart from the rest of society?"

I frowned, I didn't like anything particular about myself so far. I wrecked my mind for something. After a while, I started losing hope of getting a name. Then, my senses came to mind. Loud touches, bright flavors…maybe that?

"Well…I can see and hear sounds, taste colors…maybe?"

"Ah,"-Magna spoke across the table-"I heard about that. It's called synesthesia. Crossed senses. Happens every five billion years or so, extremely rare."

The red and orange fembot smiled a bright smile and took my hand in her own. "How about Synaesthesia? You will present yourself like that to bots you meet."

"Synaesthesia." I tried. It was a nice name, if not a bit tongue-breaking. "Maybe Syn, for short?"

"Yes, that is alright. Now listen to me." Magna took my hand. These bots loved to hold hands, I noticed. His voice was serious. "You must not show this ability to _anyone_ out there, okay? Your extraordinary view of this world is seen as a disability in society's optics-it must not come to the surface."

"Why?"

It was Lava who spoke next. "Because society wants everything to be perfect. It's either perfection, or death. There was a time when we flawed bots could walk freely amongst others. Now, that time is gone. Iacon is no different than the rest of Cybertron-we must keep a low profile to survive. Do not let society's words get to you, for they are wrong. They believe that flaws are not able to survive by themselves-and you have proved them wrong today."

Her voice grew light and easy again. "I do believe you have something in your subspace. Oil truffles, right?"

Pulling them out, I set them on the central tray, ashamed. "I stole them… I think."

"That's okay, as long as you acknowledge your mistake and don't repeat it."

We ate up the oil truffles; they were still delicious. I helped Lava clean up and Magna took me to his workshop. He sat me down on a comfortable chair and shuffled about the room. He peeled off the destronium piece off my helm, and hissed at the gash marring me. "Oh dear, that looks painful." He cleansed the wound with some sharp-smelling liquid and a piece of…something…it was soft and pliable.

He applied nanite gel on it; I felt them reach damaged circuitry and start repairing. "You did well on stopping the bleeding." He said. "However, I don't think the plating itself will ever close, even though it won't be leaking anymore. The patch had nickel in it. You're allergic."

He scurried around the workshop. Loud, clanging and sizzling sounds spread around the room. Then, brushing sounds. He turned around carrying a piece of metal. It was vivid purple, much like my plating. He attached it to my forehead, clicking in place as locks fastened.

"There, sweetie. Look."

He brought a mirror in front of me, and I traced the new crest with my black digits carefully. It was shaped to cover the gash, spreading against my whole forehelm, and two thin, long spikes on either side that looked like horns.

I liked it.

"Thank you." I said, pushing myself off the chair and gave him a quick hug. He patted my back.

"Come. You need to get cleaned."

Realizing how filthy I was, I followed him into the washracks. "You will find everything you need in here. You can use Lava's solvent, but we'll buy you your own once you're settled in. "Okay." I said, and he left me to clean my frame in peace.

Cleaning wasn't that hard. I scrubbed down my frame and in no time I felt clean again. Stepping under the dryer, I caught my reflection in the full length mirror.

I was painted in vivid purples and greens, with black edges. My faceplate was strong ashen, almost completely black, and my optics were bright blue and red. I had a big green booster on my back with two purple and black wings pointing downwards. My chassis was a purple cockpit with green glass. I had small shoulders, narrow waist, wide hips and thick thighs.

I liked it.

Magna came behind me and spoke. „ I'll tell you a secret. You are a flier, that's why you have wings. Fliers on Autobot assembly lines are extremely rare, Syn. You are destined to do great things. You are destined to _fly_ and everybot will lift their helms to watch you in awe. I promise you that."

.o

Magna, Lava and I were lounging around in the main room when there was a knock on the door. I went to open, but Magna stopped me. „I'll take it."

Coming back, he was trailed by another mech. He was tall and thin, with golden optics and painted black with silver rims. His voice was baritone, a drawl. „I see you have a new member, Magnus."

„How many times do I have to tell you- I am no Magnus." Magna reprimanded him with a smile.

„Maybe, but you always will be to me." The mech replied. He sounded young. I shrank in my sofa as he looked down on me. „Takeover, at your service." He smiled a dazzling smile, his denta perfect, white, but...were those fangs? He took my servo and kissed it lightly, maintaining optic contact. Molten gold scorched and stared intensely, and it felt as if he was stripping me down to my very _Spark._ I dared not look away.

„Synaesthesia."

„Hmm. I like it. Pleasure to meet you, _Synaesthesia._ " My new name slipped from his lips in a husky whisper, and my whole back crawled, my wings making a violent twitch. Oh my Primus, that was...

Purple.

Passionate.

God, what am I getting myself into?

„I believe you don't intend on seducing my new family member whole day now, do you, Takeover?" Magna replied with a smile. The gaze was broken as Takeover straightened, leaving me an energon jelly. „Yes indeed, you're right. I came to warn you that there will be a hab suite inspection around next month. Better check that sanctuary of yours."

Magna cast a worried glance at Lava and me. „But, the inspection was supposed to be next year. What gives?" Said Lava.

„No idea. I heard this much and ran immediately. Now, I gotta dash. See you around." Just as he was about to leave, he sent me a wink, and I nodded awkwardly in goodbye.

„I'm really worried about that kid. Sure, he's a sneaky little saboteur, but hangs out with wrong bots." Magna sighed, falling back into his sofa. „I _told_ him to lay off the destronium, but no. 'Too much potential information lost' he said. Like Pit."

Lava stroked his servo and sighed.

„Destronium? Isn't it what we're made of?" I asked.

„Yes, but it's also a powerful drug. Sends bots tripping pretty hard. Takeover gave up his body for sake of gathering information from gangsters and mafia around Iacon." Lava sighed in dismay.

„So he's a junkie." I deadpanned. Reason or not, drugging was still just that, _drugging._ I might be fresh, but addictions were bad and everybot knew that.

I swore to get him off it.

.o

„Nooo! Please! Stop!"

„Ah-ah-ah. But you need to learn your lession."

„Okay okay! I learned it ! NO more dumping paint over you! Now please, stop! Hahahha!"

Magna got off me, and I heaved, my chassis rising and falling and ocassional chuckles falling out. One more thing I learned about myself.

I was extremely ticklish.

How it came to this? Lets just say I decided Magna would look much better painted in bright pink.

Still not sorry for it.

Pulling myself up, I smiled a bright smile. „Hehe. Hehehe."

Magna went to tickle at my wings again, and I yelped. Lava shook her helm fondly. „Children."

Loud banging. Three bangs. I gasped.

Only Elite Guard knocks like that, Lava taught me.

„Hurry, Syn, get to the sanctuary. Lava, take your visor." Magna ushered, and went to answer. I bolted towards my room, which was a guest room, and opened the trap door under my berth. I hid inside and waited, listening intently.

Multiple pedes hit the floor as mechs marched about, examining our house. I held my breath while they looked about my room, holding still as a statue.

„Everything just like before, eh? Old timers never change."

„Thank you. Now give us the pleasure of watching you kindly leave this house."

„Hmph." The guards departed, and a sound of door closing made me sigh in relief. „Phew." I climbed out into my room, heading straight to the main room. Warm arms encircled me. „Huh?"

„Oh my dear child, they were so close. They looked under your bed and I.."

Smiling, I hugged Lava back. „There's no need to worry, mom. I'm fine."

Pulling back, Lava's mouth opened wide in surprise. „Mom... you called me mom..."

„Yes, mom."

Lava's face lit up with a smile, and the tiny femme almost broke her neckstruts running towards Magna in the kitchen. „Magna! She called me _mom!_ We have a Sparkling, Magna!"

„Easy woman, you're going to- wait what?!" Magna was dragged by a jumpy Lava into my vision field, and I smiled fondly.

„Hey dad."

I suddenly found myself tackled to the floor, and I hugged them both, sighing happily.

Yes, I meant it. They took me in, gave me food, shelter, company, a shoulder to cry on and someone to laugh with. They were my parents.

We were a _family._

.o

"What in the Pits…?"

I watched, horrified, as my parents carried the lanky, dark form up the staircase. "Syn, get the med energon!" Magna shouted over his shoulder and I bolted for his workshop, rummaging trough the cupboards and shelves.

Takover drugged himself into coma.

"How is he?" I asked worriedly after I brought the medicine.

"Not good." Lava said. "I worried something like this would happen. He fainted on our own doorstep."

My optic ridges arched. I caressed Takover's feverish cheekplate. It was damp with condensation. "Go get some rest. I've got this."

"Are you sure, dear?"

"Yes. Get some sleep. I'll take care of this crazy mech."

Magna led Lava out of the room. "If you need us, just call. We'll be here in a nanosec."

I nodded and the next moment I was alone with the drugged bot. Taking seat on the berth, I dabbed a cold cloth over his forehelm. "Hey, Takeover. It's Syn. I just wanted to tell you you are an idiot. But, don't worry. I'll take care of you. You concentrate on getting better, okay?"

I pulled a cooling blanket over him. "Heh, you idiot…you usurped my berth.." A hot lump formed in the back of my throat and I felt oily tears flowing down my dark face. Taking a shaky breath, I climbed in beside him, nuzzling into his silver flamed chassis.

"Hm, did I now?"

Gasping, I bolted upright, my face burning in embarrassment. "You're conscious!"

Takeover smirked, that cocky glitch head. "Takes much more to knock me out big time."

I looked down. "You could've offlined…why do that to yourself?"

Takeover's optics clouded over. "…Makes me forget."

"About what?"

"Everything. This war, Autobot albeism, my short time in the army. I wanna forget all of it."

Shaking my helm, I sighed. "It's not _worth it_ , Takeover. Not worthy of your health." I hesitantly laid back down when my arm was tugged on. Takeover wrapped his long arms around me. "Don't worry. I'll take care of you."

"Hm, I'm certainly looking forward to that." He chuckled in my audio before falling asleep. I decided not to ponder too much on his comment, and I hacked into his subspace. There, I found at least dozen of destronium strips. Taking them, I stashed them up into my own subspace, before closing his gently. I decided to take a nap myself.

Tomorrow, his withdrawal will start.

.o

"Syn, _please_! Please, I _need it_! Syn, _give it to me_!"

Takeover was trembling so hard his plating rattled, his face twisted into a grimace of pain and desperation. I shook my helm no, and he lounged at me. I dodged him and he slammed himself into the wall. Ouch.

"No means _no,_ Takeover! Get back into bed!" I remained calm, though a splitting headache was not helping my patience. At all. I sighed as he moaned and started banging his helm against the wall. "Come, come…" I approached him slowly, gently tugging him towards my bed. He stumbled after me and flopped face first onto the berth, groaning. "Syyyyyn…ugh…"

He heaved and I brought a metal bucket. He retched, oil tears streaming down his pale face. I held his forehead and when he finally stopped throwing up, I slowly eased him back into the berth, tucking him in. I kissed his forehelm and frowned, he was scorching hot. I put a cold cloth on his head to cool him down a bit.

I switched the lights off and gently closed the door. Once outside, I leaned against it, slipping down and dragging my servo down my face in exhaustion. _Boy, this is harder than I thought…mmm…but this is a comfy floor…_ And I was out like a blown engine, helm lolling to the side.

.o

At least six months passed. Takover was getting better, slowly, but steadily. In that time, me and my family formed a strong bond. We could tell anything without being judged by each other, understanding and acceptance drifting trough the house like a smell of a freshly cooked energon we ate.

I still helped at the market. At the end of the day, I would be so tired of twirling around and taking care of Takeover I would just pass out wherever I ended up. But it was worth it. People were coming like crazy to see the dancing fembot and buy stuff.

Takeover never fainted anymore. He vomited only once or twice a week. The tremors in his frame were completely gone. My father would check his energon pressure and purity each week just to be sure he was clean.

As a token of gratitude, Takeover helped himself with Magna's workshop and threw together random pieces of metal and wires to make a drawing pad.

My drawing pad.

"Takeover, sit still!"

"Okay! Sheesh."

I tapped the stylus on my lips and scratched the top of my head in thought. Takeover's face on the screen was quite messy, but accurate.

And he still wouldn't sit still.

"Takeover, I swear on tonight's dinner…"

I never did manage to finish the playful threat. Magna poked his head around the corridor and called us both to kitchen, I sighed, and helped Takeover stand up. He was still prone to waves of dizziness.

"Happy birthday!"

"…Huh?"

Lava embraced me. "Silly, it's your birthday today!"

"A whole year has passed since your stumble into that market."

Huh. Time flew by and I didn't even notice.

A big birthday flux cake was on the table. One single candle was aflame.

"Well c'mon! Make a wish!" Takeover nudged me. I laughed and closed my optics.

 _I wish we stay together, healthy and joyful as until now._

I blew out the candle.

Three knocks at the door.

A loud crash of metal falling down, and everything was in a complete disarray. Lava screamed. Elite guards restrained us all. A scrawny mech pulled out a weird device and scanned us all. He tsked.

"Oh, Magna,"he said with fake remorse,"I thought you knew better. Two flaws hiding here, what a pity. Shoot them. Then burn everything."

"What? NO!"Takeover struggled. My spark ran a mile a second. They tied us up.

A fire started.

.o

I onlined with a start, coughing up energon and ash. What happened?

Then it all came back as I looked around, and tears flooded my face. I sobbed until I could sob no more.

How? _Why?_ Impossible! I crawled, hoarsely calling out to my family. Nobody answered. How was I even alive? I was covered in ash and energon. I didn't care. I need to find them!

"Syn?"

I gasped. "Takeover!" I whispered. He was buried waist down in the debris. I scrambled to him and clutched his hand in the dim lighting of our optics. "Are you okay?"

Takeover coughed up energon. I clutched his hand tighter. "I can't feel my legs."

I nodded. "Let me dig you out."

"No, Syn…"

I heaved the debris off him, ignoring his pleas. I nearly purged at the sight.

Of course he didn't feel his legs.

There _were_ no legs.

"Oh my God, Takeover…." I sobbed, crawling back I clutched his hand. "It's okay, it's okay. I'll fix you, I promise."

"Syn…"

"Just, stay with me, please! I'll find a way…"

"Syn!"

Stopping my rambling, I crumbled down to a pile of a dirty sobbing metal. He shushed me, but not to tell me to stop, but in a soothing way. "Look at me." I did. I watched as life drained slowly out of his beautiful golden orbs. His voice was weak as he spoke.

"Why people in this world hate what is not them. Why they fear all they don't know. Why they hate themselves most of all. For being weak. For being old. For being everything altogether that is not God-like. They will hunt you till the end of days. Take this."

He weakly put something in my hand. I turned it over. Upon recognizing it as my mother's visor, I clutched his hand tight.

"Be true." He whispered. And with that, gold turned to dead gray. My sobs started anew. I screamed and cursed the god that let this happen. I cried until I couldn't cry anymore. I sobbed until my voice became raw.

Sadness turned into anger. Anger into rage. I rose to my feet and clicket the visor in place over my optics. It onlined with an angry flash of azure.

I let out a savage snarl and ripped myself out of the debris. Finding a bit of a flame that was extinguishing, I tossed it aggressively onto the ground. Takeover's energon lit up with fire. His dead shell caught it. I buried my face into my hands in frustration and hatered and screamed like there was no tomorrow.

Lava was right. This was a birthday. But not mine.

This was a birthday of Black Terror.


End file.
